


Gods And Monsters

by siriusblue



Series: In A Hundred Lifetimes [18]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, BAMF Greg Lestrade, Charles Augustus Magnussen Being Creepy, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, First Kiss, Halloween, M/M, Magical Realism, Virgin Mycroft Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-31 07:37:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21117665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriusblue/pseuds/siriusblue
Summary: In an alternate universe, everyone has powers which manifest when they reach 21. Mycroft Holmes comes from a long line of telepaths and fully expects to join them in his turn once he is finished with university. Being a Holmes comes with a number of social obligations, however. Like attending a Halloween party.





	Gods And Monsters

**Author's Note:**

> Written for A Halloween13 Advent Calender on Twitter. Much love to Vulpesmellifera for organising it.
> 
> Please be warned, contains drug references that may upset readers but it's mild and no one gets hurt. Promise.

_ In an alternate universe, when people reach 21 their powers manifest. These powers take many forms; shapeshifting, telekinesis, telepathy and elemental control amongst others but true magic, rarest of all, is highly prized. Most powers are used for good but there can be no light without darkness. Mycroft Holmes comes from a long line of telepaths and fully expects to manifest as one when he reaches his twenty-first birthday and take his place in government service. First, however, he has to finish university with its numerous social obligations. Like the Halloween party… _

  
  


"I look utterly ridiculous," muttered Mycroft as he adjusted the cape which completed his vampire outfit and checked his reflection in the mirror.

"Nah, you look great," said Harry Thorne from his prone position on Mycroft's sofa. Harry lifted his head just long enough to stuff more of his Pot Noodle in his mouth and slumped backwards against the cushions, chewing fiercely.

Mycroft couldn't help but smile. Harry had been one of the first people he met here at Cambridge when he had arrived three years ago to read Politics and Law. Despite Mycroft's natural standoffishness, they had become friends. Harry was naturally gregarious, curious about everything almost to the point of annoyance and a brilliant student. He occupied rooms below Mycroft's in the same staircase but was not averse to spending time in Mycroft's study, consuming junk food and complaining about his lack of female company.

He came from a landowning family with vast estates in Cheshire near the Welsh border and it came as a surprise to no one when his power manifested itself as Earth manipulation.

One drunken night, not long after this revelation, Mycroft had watched, mesmerised, as Harry pushed a seed into a plant pot filled with soil. The tip of Harry's finger had glowed briefly and within seconds a green shoot had appeared in the pot.

"Wonderful!" Mycroft had applauded loudly.

Harry had pulled a face.

"Cheers, mate. At least the family farms won't fall to ruin because nothing will grow." He sighed, then his natural optimism had resurfaced.

"Who wants telepathy anyway? All I would hear is Serena's brain making up excuses as to why she won't go out with me."

"Her loss." Mycroft had said firmly.

Back in the present, Mycroft looked askance at Harry.

"Why weren't you invited? I thought all the Law students had been."

"I was," Harry informed him. "Here's the thing though. I'd rather eat my own eyeballs than spend my free time with Professor Magnussen. I see enough of that creep in tutorials. So I politely declined. Anyway, some low-level Earthbender isn't the type they're trying to cultivate. Not like you. You're sure to manifest as a first-rate telepath and I couldn't be happier for you."

Mycroft felt a bit uncomfortable at this statement. He didn't like the idea of Harry thinking he was, well,  _ lesser  _ than Mycroft.

"Whatever you're thinking, stop." said Harry, getting up and facing Mycroft. "You, more than anyone, knows I don't give a shit about any of that. Now get yourself along to the party and have a good time. Flirt with some of the handsome lads that are bound to be there, see if you can persuade one of them to help you break your duck."

"Most amusing," said Mycroft, giving his widely-grinning friend a withering stare and sweeping out of the room. A cloak was a very good garment, he realised, for dramatic entrances and exits.

*

The party was being held at one of Cambridge's premier nightclubs and Mycroft felt a twinge of anxiety at the size of the venue and the volume of the music emanating from it but a Holmes never resisted a challenge. Steeling himself, Mycroft went inside.

The interior decor was surprisingly tasteful; plush seating, heavy wood tables and a well-lit dance floor which already boasted a complement of witches, mummies, Robin Hoods and pirates. Bats, spiders and skeletons decorated the outer fringes festooned in fake cobwebs.

Mycroft made his way to the bar and immediately caught the eye of the barman. Mycroft sent out a small 'thank you' to the universe that the staff had not been made to dress up. In fact it was hard to imagine what kind of costume could have enhanced the man's masculine beauty more than the white shirt and tight black trousers he was already wearing, a perfect complement to his floppy black hair and brown eyes. Fetching Mycroft's order of red wine gave Mycroft a chance to ogle his back view as well; every bit as sublime as the front.

Mycroft spotted the reason for him being there and, thanking the barman, walked over to join his tutorial group and their tutor. Mycroft spotted the predatory look that Magnussen gave him as he sat down but ignored it. He would leave when it was polite, he decided. Preferably after another visit to the bar. 

*

Greg Lestrade watched the handsome vampire walk away from the bar and join the group he had been keeping an eye on since they arrived. No trouble up till now but Greg also noticed the look the older man had given the auburn-haired younger one and all of his senses went on high alert.

He wasn't surprised when the older man came up to the bar and ordered a pitcher of margaritas.

"Make sure you rim the glasses with salt." Magnussen instructed Greg.

"You utter bastard," Greg growled to himself as he poured tequila and lime juice into the jug, stirring it with an ill-wish and placing it on a tray along with the glasses that sparkled with salt crystals around their edges.

"Well done," said Magnussen, looking deep into Greg's eyes. Then Greg felt it. Excruciating pain in his head that dropped him to his knees with a shriek.

"Just a taster," murmured Magnussen as he grabbed the tray. "Just to remind you to keep your nose out of your betters' business."

Eye contact broken, the pain ebbed and Greg got to his feet. Now, he thought, would be an excellent time to collect in some dirty glasses. 

*

"I've never drank tequila before," Mycroft confessed as he watched Magnussen fill the glasses on the tray with a pale green liquid and start passing them out to the group.

"Tonight is one for all sorts of new experiences, Mr Holmes." said Magnussen, sitting beside him and handing him a glass.

"I do hope so." smiled Mycroft as he caught the eye of the passing barman.

*

Greg was ideally suited for seeing in low light and he spotted the slimy git's sleight of hand as he passed a margarita to the vampire. The vampire looked directly at Greg and gave him a shy smile which enchanted Greg but didn't distract him. He made very slow work of clearing the nearby tables as he continued to observe.

*

"Taste it," Magnussen urged Mycroft, who took a tentative sip and pulled a face.

"It's very salty," he said.

"Swirl it round the glass. There, now try."

Mycroft took a larger gulp.

"No, that's still awful. I can't believe people enjoy this stuff."

"Perhaps a fresh glass? There. Is that better?"

"Still a little salty but a vast improvement. Thank you Professor." Mycroft concluded politely. Magnussen suppressed his glee and began a silent countdown in his head.

*

Mycroft was floating on a sea of bliss. For all it tasted revolting, tequila obviously had some sterling qualities. All his insecurities and worries drifted away, leaving him with a lazy grin and a languorously good feeling. 

The rest of the group had got up to dance, leaving Mycroft and Magnussen alone at the table.

Magnussen was uncomfortably close but Mycroft couldn't find it within him to move away, not even when he felt the odious man's hand on his knee; caressing, squeezing while Magnussen leaned in and whispered.

"Such a beauty. I have a real passion for virgin wool and the real joy is you won't remember a single thing I'm going to do to you, thanks to my chemical friend."

Mycroft giggled. Magnussen's breath was tickling his ear. It was getting very warm in here, the only sour note to the evening so far.

*

Unnoticed, Greg watched the pair and as soon as the redhead's expression grew dreamy and relaxed, Greg knew exactly what that bastard had spiked the margarita with. When the odious git's hand started wandering freely, Greg knew it was time to step in. He went back to the bar, picked up the receiver and made a call.

*

"You appear to be more than a little drunk. What say I take you home?" Magnussen suggested, faux concern dripping from his voice.

Mycroft was about to agree when Magnussen was grabbed by the shirt front and dragged to his feet by the barman.

"He's going nowhere with you." 

"Get your hands off me and your nose out of what doesn't concern you," snarled Magnussen.

"Nope." said Greg steadily. "Can't do that."

"Would you like another taste of pain?" Magnussen asked.

"No, what I'd really like is to arrest you," replied Greg. 

"Don't be ridiculous!" said Magnussen, then paled as Greg flashed his warrant card.

"You're nicked for drugging this poor bloke with Rohypnol. Oh, please. Don't try and struggle or I'll have you for resisting arrest as well."

Mycroft watched fuzzily as the eyes of the handsome barman changed to a deep amber and a deep, primal growl emerged from the man's throat.

It should have terrified his tutor, Mycroft thought, not placed a superior sneer on his face.

"Dear heavens. What is the world coming to? What is one of  _ you  _ doing in the police force?"

Greg's reply was lost as the door to the club burst open and a pair of uniformed officers hurried in, closely followed by a very dapper older man in a suit. The older man stepped closer to Greg and looked at Magnussen with disgust.

"Excellent work, Constable Lestrade. Arrested him, have you?"

"Yes, sir." Greg replied.

"Good. Get the handcuffs on him and the lads will get him to the station." The older man got close to Magnussen. "I've been waiting for this for a while. I'm Detective Inspector Waugh and it'll be my pleasure to see you go down for all those unsolved student rapes that have had me tearing my hair out these past few months."

Greg snapped the handcuffs on Magnussen and the entire club watched him be frogmarched outside to the waiting police car.

"Come in and complete your paperwork as soon as you can, Greg." said the Inspector but Greg was tending to an increasingly-woozy Mycroft and the older man's expression softened.

"Tomorrow will do. Make sure there's a blood test done and that he's got someone at home to keep an eye on him."

"Right you are, Sir. See you tomorrow," said Greg distractedly. Mycroft had just wound his arms around Greg's neck and was smiling the smile of the truly hammered.

"My hero," slurred Mycroft.

"Come on, Drac. Let's get you down to the infirmary then get you home."

"S'not my name." said Mycroft huffily. "S'Mycroft."

"Mycroft." said Greg with a smile. "You've been drugged. I need to make sure you're going to be okay and that means a trip to the hospital and some blood tests for evidence, okay?"

"I'll go anywhere you want," said Mycroft attempting to stand. "Ooops." he said as he wobbled and started to giggle.

Greg sighed and put his arm around the student for support, guiding him to the door of the club.

*

Several hours later, Greg pulled up at Mycroft's college.

"Mycroft, you're home." Greg switched off his engine and gently shook the young man who was snoring lightly in the passenger seat.

With obvious effort, Mycroft opened his eyes and looked at Greg.

"Thank you. You didn't have to stay all the time, the hospital would have looked after me."

Greg ran his hand distractedly through his hair.

"Yeah, probably, but you were really quite ill. Didn't seem right to leave you there alone."

"I'm very grateful, Greg. Please don't think I'm not. I can't believe Professor Magnussen drugged me."

"Yeah, well, where he's going he won't be doing any more drugs. Or teaching. He's been at this for ages, Mycroft. You weren't the first. He's violated a lot of students but, thanks to fucking Rohypnol, no one could remember anything apart from being at that club. It was important to catch him in the act. That's why I was sent in undercover as I have quite a specific skill set. I'm pleased I was able to help you."

"If it had been a couple of months later, I'd probably have been able to hear what he was thinking," sighed Mycroft.

"You haven't manifested yet?" Greg asked. Mycroft shook his head.

"My family are all telepaths so it makes sense I will be one also."

"Doesn't always work that way," said Greg with a frown. "None of my family are weres, yet here I am."

"You're one of the most interesting people I've ever met, Greg." Mycroft said shyly.

"Because I'm a werewolf? Most people run a mile when they find out."

"No, not just that. You're clever and handsome and I think you actually like me. Do you?"

Greg looked bashful at that and Mycroft felt his hopes soar.

"Couldn't take my eyes off you, tell you the truth. One gorgeous redheaded vampire strolling into my club. It's not my birthday till June but it felt like it last night."

"Perhaps we could...go out one night?" Mycroft suggested tentatively.

"I'd really like that," said Greg, his smile as luminous as the moon. "Here."

Greg reached into the pocket of his trousers and produced a business card and a pen. He scribbled something on the back of the card and tucked it into the breast pocket of Mycroft's stained and sweaty costume shirt.

"Give me a call and we'll arrange something for the weekend, okay? My home number is on the back."

"Very much okay," said Mycroft then sighed. "I wish I'd been able to clean my teeth because there's nothing more in this world I want to do right now than kiss you."

Greg's smile turned sultry and he leaned closer.

"Feel free," he offered. 

Mycroft pressed his lips to Greg's and his eyes widened at the bolt of desire that shot through him. Then his eyes closed and he surrendered to sensation as Greg deepened the kiss. Only the need for oxygen ended it.

Greg stroked Mycroft's hair as he rested his head on his shoulder and they gazed contentedly into one another's eyes, Greg marvelling at how Mycroft's eyes seemed to change colour as he watched, every opaline hue was in there and Greg found himself enchanted all over again.

"I don't know what you'll manifest as," he said softly. "But right now you are absolutely magical."

Mycroft blushed but drew as close to Greg as was physically possible.

They sat like that for ages, revelling in the warmth and intimacy of the moment. 

"I should probably go and have a bath," said Mycroft. "Don't you have lots of paperwork to do or something? I don't want you to get into trouble on my behalf."

"Yeah I do," Greg admitted. "Much as I'd like to stay like this all day, I need to file my report, make sure the case against that bastard is watertight."

Mycroft nodded his understanding then laughed.

"My friend Harry was hoping I'd get lucky last night."

He unfastened his seatbelt and grasped the door handle giving Greg one final shy smile.

"I can't wait to tell him he was right. See you very soon, Greg."

  
  


The End.

**Author's Note:**

> Rohypnol in anything makes it taste incredibly salty, hence the frosted margarita glasses. Be safe out there, folks.


End file.
